CHAPTER 27
Jesse
“You know you have three moles above your right ass cheek?”
“Jesse,” Murph huffs, the shower water sluicing off his forehead as he glances over his shoulder, “if you’re more interested in my moles than what we’re doing, we need to try something different.”
I halt my next thrust once I’m comfortably buried back deep in his heat. There is nothing more interesting than what we’re doing, but I’m curious where he’s going with this. Does he have more tricks? Has he been holding out on me these past two weeks?
Sucking a water droplet from his shoulder, I nuzzle the back of his neck. “Different like what?”
Huffing in frustration, he wriggles free of me. What does it say about me that I like when he gets aggravated over delayed gratification? Knowing he needs me and that I hold the answer to his dilemma is a turn on.
Spinning around, he jerks me to him, covering my mouth like a punishment. I come up gasping for air. Sexually frustrated Murph is the best kisser.
Shoving me backward, he doesn’t stop until he’s knocked my knees out from behind me with the perch in my shower. Does he want a blowjob? I’m getting pretty good at them and love the way he paws at my head while I do it, but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
“Just changing the angle,” he says, sliding a knee next to my hip onto the perch.
Gripping my shoulders, he does the same with his other one. Whoa. He’s… sitting on my lap. His wet chest hair and happy trail are plastered to him. I can see his face as he reaches back and positions me. My stomach flips at the intensity in his eyes as he seats himself on me. That whole PrEP conversation we had last week and how we don’t need condoms because of what he takes has me grateful when I feel the return of flesh to flesh. Being inside him without a barrier is a whole other level of proximity, especially facing me.
As always, some instinct tells me this should be strange because it’s Murph and me. Not because he’s a guy—I don’t think that part ever felt off to me, to be honest. But Murph… bouncing on my lap and groaning while I grip two handfuls of his ass—it’s not weirding me out, but it kind of terrifies me. I don’t know if it’s this intimate position or because we both get so into our exploring. Each time we mess around, it feels like I lose control of my soul and hand a piece of it over to him.
I feel like I need him in ways I never have before. I’m scared that he’ll see written all over my face how overpowering those needs are becoming.
So, I do what I do best when I’m uncomfortable—make light of things.
“Thank God we never did this in high school. We’d have never graduated.”
His belly laugh has my balls vibrating. “I don’t think Marianne Gregor would have liked it either.”
Scoffing, I twinge at the thought of my high school ex. I can’t believe he remembers her. That was ages ago.
“No kidding. She couldn’t stand how much I missed you when you left for the army, so I cut her loose.”
His hips stop gyrating, slamming the brakes on my build up. “What?” he asks, gaping at me.
Crap. That probably made me sound like a pathetic teenager who couldn’t survive without his best friend.
“I thought she broke up with you? You never told me that.”
I hope my face only feels red from the steam in my shower. Anxiously, I shift my fingers where I’m gripping his hip and feel his moles. “If, uh, you’re more interested in my childhood dating history than what we’re doing, we need to try something different.”
His mouth ticks up on a silent puff of laughter, dissolving the anxious lump in my throat. Good. Awkward moment averted.
Grabbing my face, he pours everything he has into kissing me until I think I might pass out. I claw at his back with each rock of his hips. Damn, he’s good at this. I hate that him being good at it means he’s had practice, but tell myself it must be the sex pheromones flooding me with the stupid, jealous thought.
“Missed me, huh?” he rasps, sucking on my earlobe.
It’s all pained and breathy, telling me he’s close. His cock feels like granite, sliding up and down my abs. Reaching between us, I’m desperate to feel that clenching thing his body does when he comes.
“Maybe,” I concede, giving him a tight stroke. “There was no one else around to give me shit the way you did.”
The sound he makes is half laugh, half groan as I feel him spasm around my cock and spill into my grip. I’m still in awe that our bodies are capable of doing that. The little tremors hugging my length send me over the edge. I have to pinch my eyes shut at the overwhelming rush of relief and bliss as his channel milks me.
When he climbs off me, I lean against him while the spray rinses us off. I could stand like this forever in his arms, swaddling me like a blanket. His post-sex kisses make their way to my mouth. They seem to go on forever. Tender brushes, gentle sucks, delicate sweeps of his tongue—it’s his cuddle ritual that I always enjoy, but today it has me going lightheaded to the point I don’t think I can breathe. It’s so all-consuming it has that fear of losing myself spiking again.
Drawing back, I brush the water off my face and flash him a smile. “I better get out. I’ve got to pick some things up for my mom’s Thanksgiving prep tomorrow. I need snacks if I’m going to be over there all day. That woman is greedy with the samples now that she’s training Cam.”
“All day?” He steps out behind me and takes the towel I offer him.
“Yeah. She’s making a big deal about it this year, since it’s Cameron’s first holiday with us.”
“Oh.”
“What’s with the sad face?” I laugh, slipping into clean boxers and trying not to ogle him.
“I just thought maybe we could do something.”
“Your mom said you guys are driving up to see your sister, though. Right?”
“Um, no. Well, she is. I bowed out. I’m just going to stick around home.” Running his hand down his beard, he doesn’t look at me. “I thought maybe that’d give us some more privacy to… spend time together.”
He’s skipping his Thanksgiving for me? My pulse skitters and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. I’m suddenly all warm from head to toe, despite the chill after getting out of the shower.
“Oh,” is all I can manage.
“Is that… okay?” he hedges, glancing over at me as he buttons his jeans.
“Y-eah.” It’s more than okay, except it amplifies the neediness coursing through me after whatever emotional missing-you game we just exchanged in the shower. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
His mouth ticks up at the corner. “Nothing to be sorry about. How about after you’re done helping your mom tomorrow? We could go out for a drink or something. I don’t think we’ve been to the bar in ages. They probably think we died.”
“Well, I kind of promised Alexis that I’d work on her car afterward. She and Cheri are going to be cooking a little dinner thing for the girls and promised to feed me as payment.”
“You want some company?”
I want to say yes. It’s a completely plausible activity that we would have done together pre-exploration, but now? All I can imagine is me being too distracted by his presence while I try to work on Alexis’ car.
“Nah. I know that kind of strippers aren’t your thing, and I’ll get it done quicker if you’re not there. Thanks, though.”
His expression shutters, but he nods. Reaching past me, he grabs his sweatshirt off my vanity and dons it without a word.
Is he mad? Why does this feel so uncomfortable? We’re supposed to be friends, and now I’m too terrified to do friend things with him because I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.
He fell asleep here last night. Waking up next to him in my bed felt way too good. He said he should get home, but I’m pretty sure I’m the one who conned him into the shower.
Shit. This is getting out of hand. What is wrong with me?
I hate this ever-present war inside me lately. Part of me says I should keep myself away from him while another part longs for the way I feel when we’re together. Eventually, we’re going to have to figure out how to be friends who don’t get each other off. I can’t say I’ve ever had the urge to settle down, but Murph gave me that whole speech before the cruise about wanting what his parents had. I imagine he’s going to want to get back to looking for that some day. It won’t be fair of me to keep distracting him.
Back in my room, I can see the imprint from his head on my pillow. I ignore the anxious flurry that stirs in my chest, wondering if we’ve crossed some line I can’t ever return from. Murph isn’t out in Wenatchee, except to me and his mom. I haven’t fucked that up so far, but if I don’t get my act together soon, I could. I can barely keep my hands off him as it is.
I don’t know what his reasons are for staying under the radar, but I don’t want to find out if he’d be forgiving if I accidentally blew it for him. Still, I can’t stand the thought of him sitting at home alone by himself for Thanksgiving.
“Did you want to come to my folks’ place for Thanksgiving? Or… would that be weird? I mean, we’re always together, and you’ve stopped by on Thanksgiving before.”
He has. It’s totally a platonic friend activity that doesn’t make me look like a greedy orgasm thief, nor an event where anyone would question why the two of us are there together.
“Do you want me to come?”
“Sure.”
Slipping into his boots, he smiles. “Okay. Thanks.”
He makes his way over to me, stopping just a few inches away. This is the most confusing part—goodbye kisses. How do you go your entire life being friends with someone to getting goodbye kisses? Or rather, how do you stop giving and accepting goodbye kisses once you’ve started exchanging them?
Maybe Thanksgiving is a bad idea after all. I’m so much needier than I thought.